One Last Knight
by CassieKnight
Summary: After being seperated for over a decade, Michael Knight reunites with his old comrades, including K.I.T.T. who is ready to jump back into action when they learn of an old friend is in need of their help. Please R
1. The End

**Author's Note: **I will say one thing—I usually don't post any Knight Rider fics until I've finished them and scrutinized over the content for months. And although this isn't my first KR fic, I've decided that what the heck, I'll post it as I go. Honestly the entire story isn't completely worked out in my head, but I'm finding that I actually can figure things out as I go along ;) One thing that I hope I'm doing right is the times and stuff—years things happened and calculations of everything. I'm pretty sure its good, but if you come across something along the way that doesn't seem right, I apologize ahead of time.

Ah, and lastly, the disclaimer…if I owned Knight Rider I wouldn't be writing fanfiction…I'd be sitting here writing scripts to get it back on the air or on the big screen—hehe. Anyway, Glen A. Larson is the mastermind behind it and I love him for creating the best tv show :)

Light criticism is welcome, however this is fan fiction—no technical and stupid comments please because I feel I'm allowed to explore my artistic writing skills.

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**_One Last Knight_**

**Chapter 1: **_The End_

"I presume I should already know where we are going," the computerized voice of the Knight Industries Two Thousand said as his front tires turned towards the right to go round onto a new street.

The car's driver barely gave a smirk as he looked out the side window. "Well, if your memory is as good as it was five years ago then you should know." Michael Knight leaned back into the plush beige-clothed seat, using only four fingers to guide the oddly shaped wheel.

"Michael, may I ask you something?"

"Sure, K.I.T.T, what is it?" Michael asked, trying to sound a tad bit more enthusiastic as to not alert his friend of his grief.

"Well, I was just wondering," K.I.T.T. said, his tone easy and gentle as it usually was, "after five years…does it still hurt the way you said it did back then?"

Michael was silent for several minutes. He didn't bother glancing down at the dashboard where the three-columned voice box that flashed as K.I.T.T. spoke. Did it hurt as much as it had when it all happened? Michael, now forty-one years old, let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah K.I.T.T., it does when I really start to think about it."

K.I.T.T. automatically picked up the sorrow in his dear friend's tone. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no," Michael said reassuringly. "You mean well, partner."

The shiny black Trans Am drove into the narrow driveway. Michael turned the wheel gently, the car barely coasting at ten miles per hour. Stepping on the break, Michael looked out the passenger side window, his eyes closing in on the particular spot he had been visiting habitually since that fateful day.

"I'll be right back," he told the car as he got out and gently shut the door. K.I.T.T. made no comment as the man walked away, his hands buried deep in his leather jacket's pockets.

Michael walked down the grassy isle, not bothering to glance at other stones that lined his path. About ten feet in he stopped and turned, his eyes shedding a few stray tears as he looked at the stone with his one-true-love's name on it—"Stephanie Knight." Michael knelt down and looked at the dirt surrounding the stone. The perennial flowers he had planted there were returning for a new season. Pretty soon the grave site would be brightened up with colors of Stevie's favorite flowers.

The day was still very clear. After years of not being with the girl he had loved so much, he had finally decided that it was time to commit himself to her and leave the Foundation for Law and Government. He had been tired of risking his life, nearly getting killed several times, and living alone. At that point he only had four friends, one of them being the car he had left sitting on the road.

It wasn't more than two minutes after he had kissed his bride at their wedding that she was shot. He still wanted to seek revenge on the man who fired that bullet—a bullet that had been meant for him. K.I.T.T. and he had found the criminal and put him away, but the pain that lingered in Michael's heart even now was still hard to bear. After that he had decided to remain with the Foundation, seeing that it was the life he was meant to live.

Michael kissed his fingers and put them against the cold stone. "I miss you, sweetheart," he said. "And I love you very much."

K.I.T.T. watched as Michael made his way back to him. He took it upon himself to open the driver's door, allowing Michael to be able to just sit right down. Instead, though, the man stood next to the car's back bumper and stared at the stone he had just left.

"Are you okay?" K.I.T.T. risked asking, though he knew that Michael would come around in a few minutes.

"Yeah," Michael said in a louder voice than he had been using on their drive to the cemetery. "Let's go home, huh?"

The drive had been silent except for the soft rock music K.I.T.T. played to keep Michael's mind occupied. They hadn't been far from their destination though, so only two songs were able to finish before they drove through the front gates of the Foundation's headquarters. Parking the car in the circular driveway in front of the mansion-like house, Michael sat still for a moment and stared at the intricate dashboard of the unusual car. Since Stevie had died he hadn't really thought much about his life until the past few months when things at the foundation had been going down hill, but as time rolled on, it was becoming a more serious manner. Of course he was still in great shape and perfectly healthy, but what was the point of running around chasing criminals and not giving himself a chance to do his own thing?

"Michael…" K.I.T.T. said to alert his friend.

"K.I.T.T., I'm alright," Michael said and got out. "Its just one of those days, ya know?"

"Yes, that's why I'm a little worried about you," K.I.T.T. said

"C'mon, buddy, you should know me by now," Michael replied, forcing a small laugh as he walked away.

"I do," the car said to himself. "And that's exactly my point."

Michael strolled through the main hall of the large house where the Foundation had set up its site nearly a decade ago under the command of Wilton Knight, founder of the organization and creator of K.I.T.T.. The man had been a genius and thought of the smallest, most definite detail with everything he had done before he passed on—including picking a man named Michael Long to continue his work and be the sole operator of the "miracle" car, as the spotless Trans Am had been tagged with when it was first designed on paper.

Michael Long had grown up with the desire of becoming a cop. He had been a good one too, but things led forward and got him into a situation where he nearly died. Having been shot in the face (a metal plate in his forehead stopping the bullet and preventing what should have been the inevitable), Michael had been brought back to the Knight Foundation under Wilton's orders. Plastic surgeons worked hard and the new face of the young police officer was created. With a new name, a new life and a new talking car, Michael Knight led the way to prove, as Wilton claimed, that one man could make a difference.

Eight years later, Michael had spent his new life fighting off criminals who operated above the law. It had been spectacular and exciting; the opportunity to have a choice to do this sort of work with the aid of a car that could not only talk, but analyze nearly anything, drive on its own, jump over trucks and ram through brick walls (just to name a few of its capabilities) was something Michael had never thought possible. To know that he was the one chosen for this kept him going, his faith in Wilton's dream and words keeping him going through any bad obstacles that hit him and his friends along the way.

It had been fine and dandy until about two years ago. Jennifer Knight, Wilton's daughter, president and owner of FLAG since her father's passing, had started to pull back funds. She had tried once before, but she learned that her father's dream wasn't all that phony and ridiculous as she thought. Now, though, things started changing. First it had been money, but now it was just a waste of time, in her eyes. Michael and K.I.T.T. were needed less and less for the high-impact missions they had been used to. Jennifer felt that Michael was starting to get a few too many vacations because work was slow.

All of this plus the anniversary of his wife's death swam in Michael's head before he opened the oak door that led to Devon Miles's office. Devon, a British man nearing 60, was the only man Michael looked up to and respected beyond anything else. They had had their brawls earlier when Michael was more arrogant, but they had developed a sort of adoptive father-son relationship. Devon was the coordinator of FLAG and basically ran the operation, but even he knew how it was slowly walking back down the ladder.

However, he always tried for optimism. When Michael walked through the door, the man's wrinkling face became pleased and he stood up to greet the younger fellow. "Michael, so good of you to return," Devon teased. "You're back later than I thought"

"I took a bit of a detour coming home," Michael admitted, but quickly waved his hand and smiled. "No, not that sort of detour; I just needed time to think."

"I see," Devon replied, a very small angle of sadness developing in his voice. "Well, I'm glad to see that you got Mr. James off the streets," he said trying to lighten the mood. He knew perfectly well what the day was and that certain things were occupying Michael's mind.

"Yeah, he wasn't exactly that hard to track down," Michael replied as he took a seat in front of Devon's desk. "I mean, Devon, the guy works out of his hotel room and only had one guy working on the inside. If we lost this one, I'd have to seriously think of retiring."

"I see your point," Devon said and sat down in his chair once again. "Anyway, there's a matter that we need to discuss."

"Look, I already know about K.I.T.T.'s booster pack," Michael said as he recalled last week's incident where he underestimated a landing that caused the booster pack to dislodge itself and malfunction. Thankfully it wasn't that serious and was easily fixable.

Devon smile. "I had actually forgotten about that."

"But I haven't," a woman's voice said. Bonnie Barstow, K.I.T.T.'s head mechanic and engineer walked into the office looking like she had since the day Michael met her. "If you weren't off gallivanting all day maybe I could've fixed it."

"And a merry greeting to you too, my dear," Michael told her with a childish grin. He always had a thing for Bonnie, but the two of them seemed to have disagreements on the other's behavior.

Bonnie took a seat in the second chair at the head of the desk and gave Michael the evil, but grinning eye as she sat down. Devon, however, let his smile fade away as he folded his hands on top of the oak desk.

"There's a serious matter we need to discuss," he said, his voice not as cheery as it had been only a moment ago. Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked at Bonnie, who glanced back at him.

Devon went on, his eyes not having the nerve to look at either of his two friends and long time co-workers. "FLAG is to be shut down by the end of the month upon Jennifer Knight's orders."

"What?" Michael said, his eyes widening in surprise. "You've got to be joking."

"I wish I were," Devon said solemnly. "But she is moving to France with her new fiancé and with his company and money, she feels that there's no point to keeping FLAG operational, and unfortunately the board of directors agrees."

"So what does that mean for us—for K.I.T.T.?" Bonnie asked, trying not to show how upset she really was.

"As far as I understand it we're all being given the golden handshake if we want it," Devon explained. "And K.I.T.T….well, he's property of the Knight Foundation. It's Jennifer's choice as to what happens to him."

"I'll tell you what'll happen," Michael said, his temper getting the best of him. "She'll throw him into a warehouse where he'll rot for the next hundred years."

"Michael," Bonnie tried, but Michael Knight had already walked off.

Michael had made his way to the back patio. His hands grasped the railing of the porch tightly as he leaned forward and looked at the gardens of the rear grounds of the house. He had known that this day would eventually come; he just wasn't prepared for it. Then again, he knew that he never would have been ready to hear those words Devon just spoke.

"Hey…"

Michael looked over his shoulder to see Bonnie approaching. He looked away as if he hadn't seen her.

"Look, I'm sure K.I.T.T. won't be forgotten about," Bonnie tried to comfort. "Devon told me the rest of the story. FLAG is being shut down, but the resources and everything else has been sold to a guy named Edward Stants. He's going to basically make a few changes and stuff, but the system will still run."

"No," Michael said. "It won't be the same. He'll come in here and wipe out everything as we know it."

"Michael, why can't you try to be positive?" Bonnie asked, her annoyance starting to show through. "You're not even trying to look on the bright side. I think you're just afraid of change."

"Don't talk to me about change," Michael scolded. "This place is my life. I have nothing on the outside. R.C. left when things started to slow down and it hasn't been the same since he's been gone, but I tried to look on the bright side. Now Wilton Knight's dream is being pushed aside like an old shoe. And that's exactly what's going to happen to K.I.T.T."

Though Bonnie opened her mouth to speak, she said nothing. Michael stared at her hard for a moment, his blue eyes looking cold and unforgivable. He hoped he was wrong, but he knew that the days of the man and his talking car were over.


	2. Picking up the Pieces

**AN: **Thank you kindly to those of you that reviewed the story—I really do adore comments and it makes me want to get the chapters out faster ;) Keep them coming! Though please enjoy these next two chapters irregardless. Ciao!

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**Chapter 2: **_Picking up the Pieces_

The waves crashed gently over the sand on the beach. The sun had been up for several hours now and the day looked like it was going to be crystal clear once again. Already the summer day was warm and cheerful, and tourists started to emerge onto the streets to head to the water or roam the town to do their daily shopping.

Michael Knight, though, would just take this as another day in paradise. He had already seen the morning arrive for the new day, having had a cup of coffee while sitting on his back porch that overlooked the beach. He did this every morning, and he enjoyed it. Soon, as part of the routine, he'd be heading downtown to a small diner where he met with some local friends and shoot the bull over breakfast.

Michael stood in front of the mirror, shaving off the three days of facial hair that had grown in. There had been a time where he would have shaved every morning to keep his face smooth, but he had given that up years ago when he decided impressing the ladies wasn't as important anymore. The life he led now had been nearly the same for the past six years and he was content.

After showering and combing the snarls out of his curly brown hair, Michael pulled out a pair of faded jeans and threw a black t-shirt over his head, topping off the outfit with a white, collared shirt, without taking the time to button it up. Stuffing his wallet into his back pocket and his cell phone into one of the front pockets, Michael grabbed the keys to his '57 Chevy and headed out.

It was near ten in the morning now and the diner was full of people. He needn't wait, though, since the two men he met every morning were already saving a spot for him at a corner booth.

"Morning, Michael," a man of Michael's age greeted. Will, a short guy with wavy black hair, a mustache and dark eyes moved over to give Michael some room. He handed the menu to the new company and leaned back on the seat.

"Get that headlight fixed?" Steve, the other man across from Michael and Will asked as he glanced out the window at the blue Chevy.

"Yeah, the part came in Friday after I left here," Michael replied as he skimmed over the breakfast menu. "Guess it'll be scrambled eggs again."

"Told ya my pal down at the shop would come through for ya," Will said with a smirk. "Burt has those sort of connections since he picked up the tab for that place last year."

"Yeah, thanks," Michael said and closed the menu just as the waitress, a girl named Missy, arrived. "I'll give you three guesses, sweetie."

"Scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon and three sausage links," Missy said with a smile. "White or wheat bread?"

"Let's make it wheat today," Michael replied. "Did you get your exam grades?"

"Not yet, but I'm hoping they'll come in today's mail," Missy said as she finished writing down Michael's order. "And you guys?"

"The pancake deluxe," Steve said. "Extra maple syrup, remember."

"Just for you," Missy smiled. "French toast or pancakes, Will?"

"Double Steve's order, but leave out the extra syrup," Will told her.

Yes, each day was just a repeat of the one before. Michael and the others saw Missy three days a week and she knew them pretty well, but he figured when she got her test grades she'd be heading off into the real world and away from the life college dealt her.

Michael knew Steve and Will from his time working in a combined hardware and auto parts store. He figured that after the time he spent running around chasing bad guys he needed time to relax and earn himself a little extra money. Working the job he had until six months earlier gave him the money and the discount on parts he needed for the classic car he decided to fix up as his hobby. Will had owned the place and Steve had been one of the original employees. They were both older than Michael by two and seven years, but it didn't matter much. Michael was happy with the way things were going and he wasn't about to look back and wonder how it could've been if things hadn't changed.

Two hours later, after sitting and talking with his buddies over two extra cups of coffee, Michael returned home to wax the car as he had planned on. He pulled out a small radio and set it down on an overturned milk crate, tuning into his favorite station. The car saw a bath nearly every week, and a wax job usually every two or three. It was his hobby. This is what he loved to do.

Half an hour into drying off the car from the quick rinse, the cell phone that had been placed next to the radio started to ring. At first Michael was going to let it go, but after it kept going, he gave in and answered it.

"Hello," he said with a smile—something that rarely left his face these days.

"Michael, how are you?"

The smile on Michael's face lessened, though he did welcome the friendly voice of Devon Miles. "I'm doing great," he answered truthfully. "Just spending some time shining up the old girl in the driveway here."

"Ah, how's she coming along?" Devon asked.

Michael could practically picture the older man sitting in a suit behind some desk, the tone in that British accent telling him he was doing pretty well. "She's coming along nicely. And how's things over at FPLI?"

Michael had heard after leaving the Foundation for Law and Government that the new owner, Edward Stants, had renamed the organization the Foundation for Private Law Investigation. He had been offered a job by Stants, as did Devon and Bonnie, but after hearing that K.I.T.T. wasn't going to be part of the team and the work wouldn't be the same, Michael quickly threw in the towel. A year later at a dinner reunion with Devon and Bonnie, Michael discovered that his predictions had come true-- K.I.T.T. had been put into on-site storage, but with a promise he wouldn't be deactivated permanently.

Devon, though, had stayed on since it was what he did. He was named the company director, meaning he accepted and declined clients under the rules of Stants's new operation. "Oh, things are going well enough," he said. "Of course it hasn't been the same without you and Bonnie."

"Devon, don't take this the wrong way, but I hope you aren't going to try to persuade me to come back. We've been down this road before," Michael reminded him.

"How about we meet for lunch?" Devon asked quickly.

"Devon, I'm telling you right now—"

"Michael, you're much too suspicious," replied the Englishman. "How about it, eh?"

Michael let out a sigh and looked at the Chevy drying in the hot afternoon sun without his consent. "Alright, I'll give."

"Marvelous," Devon replied and Michael knew the smile that went along with that sort of word. "Where would you like to meet?"

Michael thought for a moment and then smirked. "There's a place called Count Marshall's on Southwest Main Street," he said finally.

"Count Marshall's," Devon said, seemingly taking down the name and location. "How's tomorrow around, oh, say noon?"

"I'll be there."

xXx

As arranged, Michael arrived at Count Marshall's Grill and Bar at exactly 12:05 the next day. He knew that Devon couldn't have possibly expected him to be on time, since it was never his strong point during their working days together. He also knew that poor Devon would probably frown the moment he stepped out of his car at the site of the restaurant.

Count Marshall's was a fairly new joint that was opened by a man from Texas who specialized in any sort of food that was noted to be bad for you and high in cholesterol. Michael, though, thought that was the best sort of place to go to. Besides, Devon should know that by not picking the place himself would result in eating extremely greasy and very mess one-serving courses.

When Michael walked through the over-polished door of the brick building he looked around the dimmed atmosphere for his friend. Of course Devon would pick a booth off to the side where few people would notice him. With a big smile, Michael walked over and pretended to look around as if he had never seen what was inside the place.

"I should've known I'd be dining on fine Michael Knight cuisine," Devon replied as he set aside the menu with a small look of sourness.

"This place has the best burgers," Michael said sitting down, saying what he had only to push the mood Devon was in from the choice of restaurants.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said dismally. "But away from that, how are you?"

"Good," Michael replied honestly. "Things have been really good around here."

"I'm so glad," Devon said. "In fact, I'm so happy for you I have a question."

"Getting right to the point, huh?" Michael answered, expecting what was on the older man's mind. "Devon, I already told you…"

"Yes, yes, I know you already told me," Devon said, "but you don't know what I'm going to ask."

Michael chuckled. "Devon, it's been thirteen years and the last time I heard from you in person was at the reunion with Bonnie and RCIII."

Devon let out a weighted sigh and folded his hands on the table, but before he could say anything the waitress came over wearing a rather skimpy rodeo-queen outfit. "What can I get you boys?" She asked, clearly trying to pretend she was a cowgirl from Texas.

Once their orders had been placed, Michael remembered that Devon was just about to pull out the cue card. He didn't want to hear it, but in a way it was a bit curious as to what was so important that Devon Miles would want to ask Michael in person.

"Now, where were we?" Devon said as he sipped the water that had been brought to them when the waitress arrived to take orders.

"You were about to ask me to become the Michael Knight from the '80s again," Michael reminded. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Ah," Devon said, but paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "Before I start, know that I wouldn't be asking you anything unless I felt strongly about this—"

"Devon, just cut to the chase," Michael interrupted.

"Do you remember Nicole Turner?"

Michael searched his memory for a long moment and tried to picture the face that went with the name. Then it dawned on him and an image of a fiery young woman with wavy brown hair and a pretty smile came to his mind. "Yeah, she was having problems with her ex-husband and confess that me killing that biker guy was an accident and self defense."

"Yes, and she had a daughter named Natalie who was kidnapped by Nicole's ex-husband, Harold T.," Devon continued. Michael nodded and Devon paused yet again, but this time to give Michael a chance to think about that incident with Harold T. and rescuing Natalie from him.

Devon folded his hands as he had done so earlier and set them on the table, leaning over slightly to address Michael in a more private manner. "I received a letter from Nicole, now Nicole Westfield since she apparently had remarried. She seems very concerned about her daughter and I fear that it may be a little more serious than even she's letting on."

"I see," Michael said nearly reaching the border of sarcasm. "So why not let FPLI handle it? Devon, you know I'm not into that and stuff anymore—I gave that up over a decade ago."

Devon gave a sad, yet hopeful nod. "I know and trust me I completely understand where you are with your life. Michael, I wouldn't ask you if I didn't have to, but I'm afraid Edward Stants won't allow the organization to take on something as small as this, mostly because it's not profitable in his eyes. Nicole won't let out any details on paper and that's not a good enough reason for the organization to check into things."

"Well only Jennifer Knight would've sold her father's dream to a man whose money hungry," Michael replied.

"I'm afraid Wilton Knight's dream has deteriorated, almost entirely. Unless its beneficial for the company, Mr. Stants doesn't see the purpose of…interfering, shall we say, with what he considers police-rated work."

Michael's brow furrowed and he leaned forward as well. "Then why are you still there? I know you can't stand the guy—that's something I've known from the start of this whole stupid FPLI thing."

Devon sighed and looked at his hands. "Because it's my dream to see that a small part of FLAG can remain living, even if it's the smallest of parts."

Michael leaned back again and put both hands flat on the bench he sat on. He looked around to see their waitress talking to the bartender, but he thought nothing of her. Did he really want to get involved with that line of work again? He knew the answer to that—no. He was happy not thinking about whether he was going to live to see the next day…but there was still that desire to live on the edge. He missed his friends—his family. Though the thing he thought of the most right now was Natalie Turner. He remembered her as a cute little five-year-old with pigtails and a pretty little pink dress. She was a real sweetheart that had gotten caught up between her mother and father's messy divorce.

Finally Michael returned his gaze to Devon. He tried not to smirk, but it was hard to keep himself focused on any uncertainty he had. "Alright, I guess I'll give you a hand with this. If Natalie's in trouble I want to make sure she gets out of it. But if I do this for you, though, then there are two things I want understood right now."

Devon smiled and clapped his hands on his knees. "Name your price."

"There's no asking me to stay on with that jerk's stupid company," Michael stated clearly. "And I want to work with my old partner."

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**AN again...: **I just wanted to let you guys know, in case you don't remember, that Nicole and Natalie Turner were from the last episode in season 1, "Short Notice." I love it when little kids interact with K.I.T.T. and she always stuck out in my mind when, at the end of the episode, she asked K.I.T.T. if she'd see him again and he replied that he certainly hoped so. So that's why I chose her. 


	3. A Memorable Reunion

**AN: **I just wanted to say, for disclaimer reasons, that I borrowed some small concepts and part of a conversation from the movie "Knight Rider 2000." The bits of conversation I used were, in my opinion, some of the best words shared between the two sources in that movie (which I'd like to note, not exactly my favorite movie because of what they did to that beautiful car).

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**Chapter 3: **_A Memorable Reunion_

The following morning Michael met Devon at the same diner he usually met Will and Steve at. They ate a big breakfast and reminisced about the past. The excitement to do something that he hadn't done since the Foundation had come to an end swelled through his stomach the more time went on, but moreover he couldn't wait to be reunited with an old friend—someone he hadn't shared a single word with since he took a cab to his new condo on the other side of town when FLAG was written off.

The two men used Devon's Pontiac Bonneville to drive to FPLI headquarters, a modern, glass building a few miles away from the down-town area, where unfortunately, they first had to meet with Edward Stants himself. Michael was barely able to stomach the man when they were introduced at a farewell banquet to Jennifer Knight, and he doubted that the feeling would be any different.

What angered Michael even more, however, is where they would be heading after that meeting. Devon warned him that there had been many changes, many of which Michael would no approve of. Mainly, Michael's biggest problem with Stants was the decision he made to permanently park K.I.T.T. in the grounds' storage building, since the Knight Industries Two Thousand had "outlived its usefulness."

He knew before it happened, though, what K.I.T.T.'s fate was. People who didn't work with the car, who didn't understand what he was all about would think nothing of pushing him aside like an old taxi cab or something to that nature. Putting him in away, though, must've hurt K.I.T.T. beyond anything else. Michael, along with Devon and Bonnie, had known that K.I.T.T. may have been a computer, but he was able to develop himself into a computer with a human-like personality—there was just nothing else like him.

"Devon!" A cheap-friendly voice called from down the main hall that led to the lobby.

Michael frowned to himself and put his hands in his pockets as he and Devon stood in place while Edward Stants walked towards them. He was a shorter man of his late thirties, dirty blond hair and sharp brown eyes. From afar he looked like a decent man, but his attitude was clearly stated through his stride and how he carried himself. Wearing a dark, three-piece suit, Stants extended his hand to Devon and shook it like they were high-class business men.

"I got your message," Stants replied and then glanced at Michael.

"You remember Michael Knight," Devon asked stepping away from the two.

"Of course, Mr. Knight," Stants said and shook Michael's hand. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Well, seeing that I asked Devon to arrange this, I wouldn't miss it," Michael said forcing himself to give a friendly smile in return.

"Ah, yes," came the reply. "Well then, how about a drink in my office? I should fill you in on what's been going on around here, Michael."

"No, that's okay we just came from breakfast," Michael said. "How about you just take us to K.I.T.T.?"

"Yes, it's been a while since we've talked to him," Devon added cheerfully, though Michael knew he was putting on an act—he knew something more than what he was letting on. If Stants wasn't present, he would've asked.

Stants became a little pale when Michael stared him down. He shifted his weight uncomfortably and gave a small smile. "I'm sure," he said a moment later. "I can arrange a golf cart to take us to the bay."

"Oh, it's that far back, is it?" Michael said, trying to make the guy feel more uneasy. After all, it was the least he could do after what he did to K.I.T.T.

Stants said nothing as he went over to the girl at the front desk and asked her to call one of the roaming security guards. He returned a second later and tried to act cool and calm. Michael, though, pretended the man didn't exist. Devon, felt torn between both of them and remained silent as to not seem to favor one over the other, (though Stants wasn't favorable company).

Within five minutes a white golf cart rolled to the entrance of the main building and Stants led the way to it. The security guard said nothing to any of them, but he seemingly knew where they had to go. Michael looked around the contemporary architecture of the building and the landscaping. It was nothing compared to the scenery that surrounded the Knight Foundation back in the day when he lived in the large, mansion-like house that was FLAG's headquarters.

"Just a little further!" Stants called over his shoulder to Michael and Devon. "I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear from you again!"

"Yes, I'm sure," Devon said, but Michael made no comment.

The golf cart stopped in front of a ware-house like building that was fairly small and not well kept compared to the main building. Michael looked around and saw how dismal the area looked; it seemed that once you stepped behind the scenes of FPLI the elegance it pretended to own wasn't as remarkable in the lower sectors.

Stants led the way, pulling out a small keychain with several bronze-colored keys hanging from it. He smiled at his company as they followed while he unlocked the regular, seven-foot tall door. Michael walked up close behind and scouted the interior of the building once Stants turned the overhead lights on. He wasn't surprised at what he saw; boxes upon boxes towered several sections of the floor, along with old office furniture and what seemed to be a newer shipment of decorative potted plants still sitting in partial shrink-wrap off to one side.

"Back here," Stants said as he led the way down the main isle. Michael tried to take in as much as he could and found mostly everything that was labeled was stamped with FLPI.

Michael's attention was drawn back to the reason why they were there when Devon poked his arm. The blue eyes set in Michael's face became narrow almost instantly. In front of them, sitting on four jacks, was the shape of a car covered by several dirty, old sheets. The blood rushed through Michael's body immediately when he could tell that his friend's tires were missing.

He didn't wait for Stants's permission to go ahead and reveal what was being hidden. Michael pushed the CEO aside and pulled away the first sheet his hand grabbed. Within a split second he was nearly heartbroken. What was once a flashy, top-of-the-line Trans Am was now a car that no longer had the sparkle jumping along its fenders. The black paint was faded from lack of care over the years; the hood was missing along with the fog lights that had been embedded within the bumper.

Michael walked around the body of K.I.T.T., a sense of anger and pain colliding in his heart all at once. Devon, though, wasn't impressed at the condition of his old friend's dream car. "I see that you made sure that K.I.T.T. wouldn't escape," he noted as he stared at the wheel-wells that no longer sported wheels.

"Well, they were a bit worn, Devon," Stants replied nervously.

Michael, though, didn't want to hear the excuses that would start pouring out of who he considered to be a jackass's mouth. "What the hell did you do to him?" He asked hatefully. "I thought it was agreed that he'd never be deactivated."

Edward Stants stood up as straight as he could, his fake smile disappearing. "He hasn't been; but the tires came off so the bastard—thing—couldn't decide to up and leave. The rest of what we took was used for fundraising."

"Oh that's real nice," Michael snorted. "Auction him off like he was nothing."

"Don't raise your tone, Mr. Knight—times have changed. Your car is over two decades old now; it wouldn't even fit in with the beautiful automobiles that are on the streets today." He looked between Devon and Michael several times. "Stay here as long as you like and catch up with the bucket of bolts; but don't come begging me to put him back together so you can go joy riding again."

Michael watched with fire in his eyes as Stants hurried off and left the building, not even closing the door as he disappeared. It didn't matter though; he had no regrets in anything he said—Stants had ruined K.I.T.T. and that was fact.

"I'm sorry, Michael," Devon said finally after the air seemed to be a little lighter. "I should've told you that Stants cared nothing for K.I.T.T."

"I figured you were trying to keep my temper low since I had to face that asshole," Michael said more calmly. "I just wish K.I.T.T. didn't have to suffer."

"Suffering is an understatement."

Michael glanced over to the front of the faded nose of the car to see the familiar red scanner flashing from side to side. A smile immediately came to his face and he returned to face the car completely.

"Ah, K.I.T.T.," Devon said joyfully looking at Michael.

"Is that you Michael?" K.I.T.T. asked.

"Yeah," Michael replied.

"You look like crap," the car said bluntly.

Michael snickered. "Well so do you, pal."

"At least I have an excuse! You've gone down the toilet since we last saw each other."

"Well just think of all that nap time you got," Michael said jokingly.

"If I had needed nap time, Michael, I would've been designed to recharge my battery with a giant plug that connected to any wall outlet," K.I.T.T. said. "Unfortunately, though, Mr. Stants didn't seem to take kindly to me and within three months I found myself lifted off the ground on these highly uncomfortable, average car jacks."

Both Devon and Michael chuckled; but K.I.T.T. went on. "Taking my tires was bad enough, but removing other parts plus my hood was rather rude, if you ask me. I can only imagine where they ended up."

"Well," Devon started, "I believe your hood was sold to a company that builds the presidential limousines in order to better structure those cars by using the molecular bonded shell that was, rather is part of your design.

"Yes and look at how dusty my engine has become," K.I.T.T. said in a shallow tone.

"Well, what's left of your engine, partner," Michael replied looking into the front body. "Don't worry though; you're days of hovering are over."

"Please, no jokes Michael," K.I.T.T. asked.

Devon looked at Michael knowingly. "I assure you it won't be easy to obtain him. Edward Stants won't give up his fall-back fundraiser option."

"Well that's too bad, isn't it?" Michael said with a smirk. "K.I.T.T., we're gonna get you out and fix you up like new. You'll feel like a million bucks."

"As grateful as I am with your words, Michael," K.I.T.T. said, "how do you expect to move me? I'm useless without a set of wheels."

"Minor setback, pal," Michael said. "I have some connections where I can get you brand-spankin' new sport tires in no time."

"And my hood?"

"Same connections," Michael said and patted the nose of the car.

"But how are you going to convince Mr. Stants to give me up? Like Devon said, I'm his main catch…"

Michael looked at Devon as if he already worked out the fine details. His mouth formed a devilish smile that only spelt out that no matter what, K.I.T.T. would be free once again.


	4. Freedom

**Author's Note & Apology: **Hey everyone; I thank you ALL very much for the wonderful reviews you've provided me with. It really is a pleasure to know that my story intrigues the Knight Rider enthusists :) I do apologize deeply and humbly that its taken me so long to update this. Its been a long semester and I've been overwhelmed with a lot of work. However, I plan on picking the story back up and hopefully my updates won't be so long in between :) Although, I will say I'm glad that I didn't post chapter four when I had finished it--it along with the beginning of chapter five have been sitting collecting dust since my last update, but after rereading everything and going back to it, I decided to change and add more to this chapter. I feel its much better and Michael's character is justified way better :) I hope you all think so too. Please continue to review because they bring smiles to my face :) Until next time!

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**Chapter 4:** _Freedom_

There was no reason, Michael felt, why he couldn't talk to Stants that afternoon. The man's secretary had stopped him moments before he was about to knock on the door and told him that Mr. Stants only saw people by appointment. Devon smiled, and though he was firm and forceful, threw on the British charm he carried so elegantly.

"Katherine, it's upon only a major issue that we must speak with Mr. Stants," he said with a pleasant smile. "Of course, he's already engaged in a meeting with someone else, we completely understand."

Katherine had no idea what to say and though she glared at Michael, who wore a large smile from Devon's suave nature, she nodded her head and pretended to go back to work without knowledge that she was allowing them admittance.

Michael, therefore, didn't bother to knock since the permission was granted. He swung it open, the hinges forcing a small squeak, and took a large step in, finding Edward Stants sitting comfortably behind his cherry-wood desk, browsing something on his desktop computer.

Stants looked up suddenly and his relaxed face tightened into an unhappy frown. "Mr. Knight, I don't believe you had—"

"Oh don't worry about an appointment," Michael said softly, but his face showed no signs of tranquility. "It would have taken longer to arrange one with your sweet secretary out there than it would be to just come in here and get out what I have to say."

"If you're talking about the car, then I have nothing further to comment," Stants said, pretending to go back to the work on his computer.

Michael stepped forward and put both hands on the edge of the desk, leaning over and giving Stants a cold stare. "Oh, I wasn't expecting you to since you robbed him of his—"

"Of his what, Mr. Knight?" Stants interrupted. "His humanity? Please; that car is as ancient as my grandmother."

"Gentlemen, I don't think there's a need for the abusive claims," Devon said with a smile, but Michael paid him no attention, and neither did Stants.

"I want custody," Michael said as if the matter was over a child, though in his perspective it could've been labeled as such. "You have no use for him, so why keep him locked up and taking up space?"

"That car is property of FPLI and I will not give it up to a common man who just so happened to sit behind its wheel when it was off the showroom floor," Stants said sitting up very straight.

"That car was property of FLAG before you even knew you'd be graduating college," Michael argued with bitterness set deeply in his tone.

Stants stood up and put his hands on his hips beneath his unbuttoned suit jacket. "You have no right to come in here and say such things to me," he stated, his face becoming red with anger. "I want you out of here."

"I'm not leaving until I get K.I.T.T.," Michael said boldly and Devon tried to lean in, but didn't have a chance to say a single word. "If there's a reason why you want him to sit on jacks with dirty sheets covering him, you tell me right here, right now and maybe I'll rethink my stand. And don't tell me about him being an asset—I already know the real reasons why you've held onto him for this long."

"My reasons are of no concern to you, asshole," Stants said. Devon's head spun to the side and his eyes grew wide with surprise and resentment at the rudeness of his employer's attitude.

"Don't make me angry," Michael said. "You'll regret it. Now I'm coming in here and asking peacefully to gain occupancy of that car; if you want this to turn into a major dispute, then go right ahead—I'm ready for it."

"That car is mine, and I'll not let you have it," Stants furthered.

"Then you tell me right now where on that car it states your name. If I'm not mistaking it was my last name that was stamped on the license plate."

Stants opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gave a large grunt mixed with a heavy sigh as he turned around and ran his hand through his hair. After a moment of quiet, he turned around with the resentment clearly pasted all over his face. "You know what? Take the damn piece of junk," he snapped. "You can't do anything with him anyway. Sure, put new tires on and all that crap, but that car is long dead. My people pulled anything worthy out a long time ago and you don't have the money or the ingenuity to recreate it."

Michael stood up and smiled, his blue eyes shinning with victory. "Thank-you," he replied pleasantly and turned to leave. Devon followed, but caught the glare Stants gave him as he departed, though he was completely sided with Michael.

"Now we just have to figure out how to bring K.I.T.T. back," Devon said as they left the main building.

"Don't worry, I already have that figured out," Michael said with a smile.

"Oh? Has working on that classic car of yours boosted your ego enough where not only can you fix cars but you can create high-class programming?" Devon said with a small grin.

"For the most part," Michael replied as he pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open and picked out a number that was stored in the phone's address book. Moments later, he talked to the recipient. "Will, hey its Michael. Listen, I have a huge favor to ask of you." He paused for a second. "Yeah, your buddy who owns the garage—do you think he'd be willing to send a flatbed down to Washington Drive, FPLI headquarters?" Again, another pause as he listened to Will. "Thank-you, I owe you big time buddy. I'll see you in a bit."

"What was all that about?" Devon asked once Michael returned the phone to his jacket pocket.

"A friend of mine," Michael replied. "Trust me."

"I do trust you Michael, but the question still remains in my mind," Devon said. "We've gotten K.I.T.T. back, but what are we going to do with him? I won't be able to access any funds to restore him."

"I know," Michael said. "Look, I'll tap into my savings to do what we have to. I'd do anything for him after the things he's done for me, including saving my life countless times. K.I.T.T. deserves a second chance…just like I had."

xXx

Within the hour a tow truck had arrived and drove back to pull K.I.T.T. out of his resting place. Michael watched with amusement as Stants stood off to the side with a few security guards keeping an eye on things. The thought of the man giving in like he did brought a smile to Michael's face, yet he had no reason not to let K.I.T.T. go. Stants had no use for K.I.T.T.; he made that clear when he took over the Foundation. To him, K.I.T.T. was a creation that hadn't been thought up by him, therefore the knowledge that someone thought of better company aspect than he did bruised his ego far too much.

K.I.T.T., though, was more than pleased to being hauled out of the warehouse by two chains hooked to his rusting undercarriage. Will had driven over with the tow truck driver to meet Michael and see what was so important about this car that Michael had to have taken away from FPLI, a corporation he knew nothing about until he arrived. However, the simple sight of K.I.T.T. wasn't enough to impress him; under Devon's orders of protection for all of them, he told K.I.T.T. not to scan anything or make a sound. Therefore, to Will, the Trans Am was merely a token of Michael's past.

"Alright, that should do it," he said once the flat bed was back in its secured place on the truck's rear. "You coming with us, Michael?"

"I'll be following," he said. "I'll head over with Devon."

Stants said nothing as the tow truck drove off and Devon walked away with Michael. Devon, however, wondered how miserable his life would be for the next few weeks with Stants knowing that his support wasn't with FPLI, but a man who apparently had nothing but a big mouth.

"So what now, Michael?" Devon asked when they were tucked inside the Bonneville and following the tow truck's route. "You can't possibly expect the average mechanic to work on K.I.T.T."

"No, of course not," Michael assured him. "I had someone else in mind."

"Dare I ask?"

"Bonnie," Michael said merrily.

Devon looked over to his passenger. "Bonnie? I thought she was living upstate now, after being recently married."

"Yeah, but when I had headed across the street for that donut and coffee a little while ago, I called her up and told her that we got together and pulled K.I.T.T. out of Hell itself, she said she wanted to make a stop by," Michael explained. "I'm sure once she sees him she'll want to take on the project—I mean, its not like we have to completely rebuild him…just fix him up."

Or so Michael had thought. When they reached the garage and K.I.T.T. was removed from the tow truck to an empty bay in the garage, they discovered that there was more work that needed to be done than anyone thought. Not only was the car in need of repairs from the strip job that had been done, but some of the main functions that made K.I.T.T. who he was no longer operated due to the lack of maintenance, if they still existed at all.

Burt, the owner of the garage and friend of Will, knew Michael to a point and finally handed him a spare set of keys to the place, after Will kindly pushed the subject a bit more to get the right answer. When he left to start finishing up the days work, Will pulled Michael outside to the parking lot.

Will turned and crossed his arms, glancing curiously at the old Trans Am in the garage. "That car means that much to you?"

"You have no idea," Michael said with a smirk. "That car and I go back a long way."

"Michael, it'll be cheaper to just buy a new one," he pointed out. "That thing there is rustier than that old Ford I had."

"I wouldn't go that far," Michael laughed. "Trust me, it's alright. I know what I'm getting into."

Will rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head with a concerned face. "I hope so," he said. "I mean, Burt can help you out, but it won't be cheap."

When the mechanics along with Will and Burt left, Michael and Devon took one more look over their new project. "I'm afraid without the proper equipment you'll have to make some changes," Devon said. "It won't be easy."

"Michael, you said that Bonnie was going to come, right?" K.I.T.T. asked, the excitement clear in his voice.

"Yeah, I did pal," he replied. "But I'm hoping we didn't take on more than we can chew."

"Well, there is one thing that's bothering me…" K.I.T.T. said more softly. "Do you think what Mr. Stants said was true?"

"About what?" Michael asked, his attention quickly being caught.

"What I mean is, well, I noticed—though my optical sensors are a bit rusty from not having much to work with for thirteen years—that I don't really stand out the way I used to," he said.

Michael chuckled. "K.I.T.T., you stand out just the same."

"As I see it I'm more of a relic than a showboat," he replied. "I noticed several cars on the road that were rounded, sharp-edged, flashy and sported rather large spoilers that could possibly lift it off the ground in a good wind storm. Not to mention their paint schemes left something to be desired."

Devon laughed lightly to himself and Michael shook his head. "Yeah, cars have changed a bit. They're a little more…colorful, I guess, than they used to be in your day."

"In my day!" K.I.T.T. exclaimed. "There it is right there, Michael! You even realize that I've hit the list of classics."

Michael smirked and tapped the nose of the car. "Have faith, partner. You'll be up and running soon enough."


	5. The Work Begins

**AN: **Hey everyone; sorry for the delay in getting this up for you. It's been one thing after another around here and I just haven't touched this story for a few weeks now. Anyway, I had reread this chapter for errors, but for some reason my screen went on the fritz and I had to reboot. So hopefully I caught any of the mistakes I had fixed, but if you see something wrong, I do apologize for it. I don't feel like rereading it for a third time XD Please review when you get a chance! It makes me happy! Hehe.

**Chapter 5: **_The Work Begins_

Michael had arrived bright and early at the garage to make sure K.I.T.T. was alright. He had faith in Burt, but during the night there was a horrible feeling rushing through his brain that one of the mechanics had overheard anything being said—especially by K.I.T.T. himself—and tried to steal him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he tossed up the bay door and saw the Trans Am staring back at him with what looked like a bleak smile across the bumper.

For the first hour he was there, Michael had started looking through the remains of the engine. He found the basic components to make it run were there, but the extras that had been installed for K.I.T.T.'s unique capabilities had been long removed and cobwebs had covered the empty spaces. He frowned as he noticed a spider creeping its way along a spark plug and then disappearing moments later.

"I know its bad," K.I.T.T. said solemnly, "but just how bad is it? I don't believe my diagnostic equipment is hooked up anymore."

"It's probably not there anymore," Michael said wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "They pulled you apart like a Christmas gift."

Devon arrived soon after Michael had pulled up a chair and waited for the mechanics to start their day, which wasn't for another half an hour. He was kind enough to bring pastries and coffee and they camped out in front of K.I.T.T.'s nose eating quietly.

Not long after the garage started to start its day, a white cab pulled up into the small parking lot and two people emerged from the back seat. One was a tall, slim fellow with thin glasses and a long nose. He wore slacks and a button-down yellow shirt, creating a nice image to a good-looking man. The second person was who Michael had been waiting to see, though it was sooner than he expected. Bonnie had arrived, surprisingly, though, with her husband.

Michael and Devon left K.I.T.T. for a moment to go out and greet her. The moment she saw them she broke into a jog and jumped into Michael's arms. He gave her a large hug and looked her over with a big smile on his face.

"You haven't changed one bit," he said.

"Well, I'd say the same for you, but I think I see a little gray mixing into your hair," she said with a wink. She proceeded to give Devon a hug and kiss on the cheek, but quickly moved away to present her companion.

"Devon, Michael, this is Kurt," she introduced. Kurt immediately smiled and shook both of their hands. "So—where is he?" Bonnie asked clapping her hands together.

"Hiding from the public," Michael said nodding towards the garage. He led the way back to where K.I.T.T. was situated, enjoying the moment immensely. He hadn't been with these people for far too long and it gave him a sense of security to know that nothing had changed even after time had passed.

"Bonnie!" K.I.T.T. said cheerfully, the scanner on the bumper jumping to life quickly. "It's so good to see you! And you look as nice as you ever did."

Bonnie laughed and blushed madly, but her eyes looked sad as she looked over the car she spent years working on. "Thank-you, K.I.T.T. I'd like you to meet someone—this is my husband Kurt Smith."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," K.I.T.T. said. "I'm K.I.T.T., short for the Knight Industries Two Thousand. I do beg your pardon for my appearance, however. I realize I have seen better days."

Kurt laughed openly and took a good look at the car before him. "You're something else, I must say, K.I.T.T. I never imagined a computer like you existed."

"Yes, a miracle indeed," K.I.T.T. replied. "However, this wonder car has been demoted into looking like it was dug up from a grave of filthy blankets that had more interest in getting eaten by moths than cover my sullied trunk."

Everyone shared in Kurt's laughter. "Well, I'd like to do what I can to help you guys out. I see now that Bonnie wasn't kidding when she said that this guy was something else—I could never have even dreamed of artificial intelligence this advanced."

"Yeah, he's a real wiz," Michael said with a smile. "Try living with him for eight years."

"What sort of work do you do, Kurt?" Devon inquired politely, his hands folded in front of him.

"I'm actually a bit of a scientist myself," Kurt said. "Actually, it's something along the lines of computer engineering and robotics."

"Ah, Bonnie the Second," Michael said and rested his elbow on K.I.T.T.'s roof.

"We actually met in the lab and we basically share the same complex since it's a small company," Bonnie explained.

"Really though," Kurt said, "if you'd like me to, I'll be more than happy to get K.I.T.T. completely functional—maybe more so than before."

There was a bit of silence that followed and everyone looked at the car sitting helplessly on the concrete floor. They all knew what had to be done, but they'd have to fully commit to the time that would be involved.

"The problem is," Devon started, breaking the silence, "Nicole Westfield is waiting for my reply. If Natalie is in the trouble her mother makes out, she may not have that much time to spare."

"Nicole Westfield?" Bonnie asked, trying to remember.

"Harold T. Turner's ex-wife," Michael said to refresh her memory.

"Oh, yes, I remember," she said with a nod. "What's going on with her and Natalie?"

"I received a letter from Nicole several days ago saying she needed our help to get Natalie out of hot water, as she put it." Devon's expression looked a bit uneasy. "She claimed that the police won't help her and that she thinks only Michael and K.I.T.T. would be able to do something about the trouble that's brewing."

"I remember Natalie," K.I.T.T. said. "Michael, if she's in trouble we have to get started right away."

"I know, pal," Michael said. "But we've got to figure you out first. I mean, you're not exactly shaped up for any action."

"Leave that to us," Bonnie said glancing at Kurt. "You get started with Nicole and see what's up. Kurt and I will get K.I.T.T. back into business as quickly as we can. I've done it before—I can do it again."

As the day rolled on, Bonnie and Kurt got to work with looking through the interior to see what they had to work with. Kurt made a call to have some of his personal equipment from his lab shipped to them immediately. Michael, in the meantime, had talked to Burt and worked out some simple terms with the garage owner of getting K.I.T.T. completely revamped on the outside. While all of this was going on, Devon said he would contact Nicole and send her transportation to pick her up and bring her there so they could further discuss the situation with Natalie that had the mother so worried.

Before lunch, however, Bonnie and Kurt pulled Michael aside. "I think there are some things to consider," Bonnie told him. "The first thing is K.I.T.T.'s body."

"What about it?" Michael asked, glancing past her to see the car sitting on a lift.

"Well," Kurt chimed in, "I was thinking that he is a bit outdated, don't you think? I mean if you look around, the only time you see a Firebird of his year it's not in the greatest condition. They're just old."

"Yeah, but getting K.I.T.T. fixed up will make him top of the line again," Michael said, wondering if Bonnie agreed with him. He suddenly started to doubt Kurt and his focus on the matter—he hoped this guy wasn't going to use his wife's friends as a career booster.

"But look at him," Kurt continued. "Now I'm not a mechanic, by no means, but you should know that the car is falling apart around the interior. I mean the parts alone for this year and model will take days if not weeks to obtain."

"Then we do what it takes," Michael replied forcefully.

Bonnie stepped in, looking optimistic. "Michael, think about it— K.I.T.T. was the most impressive car not only because of his capabilities but also because he was a flashy sports car. Time, though, has evolved his model and I was thinking that maybe…he should be updated to something bigger and better."

Michael's eyes widened and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Updated? What are you thinking…?" He asked with a bit of amusement.

"I was just talking to Burt," she said. "He thinks he can get his hands on a newer car if he did some searching. In the mean time we can get K.I.T.T.'s functions going and all set to be put into a new body."

Michael looked past her again to where K.I.T.T. sat vulnerable several feet above the ground. Would it really be K.I.T.T. if they transferred him into a new body? He had to admit that the 80's had died out quickly, but that car was who K.I.T.T. was. And would K.I.T.T. himself accept it? Would it be the same to drive a talking BMW?

"Bonnie, I don't know; I mean, that's a major step," he tried to explain. He stood quietly and thought about it over and over, but he couldn't decide. "What the heck is Burt thinking? I mean, I don't want K.I.T.T. to be downgraded into a common car."

"Well, wouldn't it be better than what is there now?" Kurt asked, but received a jab in the ribs from Bonnie's elbow.

Michael gave him harsh eyes, but said nothing. He shook his head but was drawn to the ringing of his cell phone. He excused himself and walked outside onto the cracked pavement of the garage's parking lot. "Hello?" he answered, watching what little traffic was on the road go by.

"Michael, it's Devon," the Englishman said. "I just got off the phone with Nicole—she should be arriving within the hour. I hope you don't mind, but I thought that your place was the best grounds for a meeting so Edward Stants can't poke his nose into what he didn't want to be his own business."

"Yeah that's fine," Michael said with a sigh. "I'll meet you there in a bit." When he returned to where Bonnie and her husband waited, he placed his hands on his hips and looked over to K.I.T.T. who now had several of his instrument panels lying on a nearby workbench, not to mention two of Burt's mechanics were busy taking apart the rusting undercarriage. "I guess you should do what needs to be done…but Bonnie—don't ruin him."

"Michael, show some more confidence," she said. "I love K.I.T.T. as much as you do—I wouldn't turn him into anything that he wouldn't like."

"Yeah, I know," he said and tried to smile. "I'm going to go meet Devon and Nicole. You know where to reach me?"

"Trust me, we'll be fine," she said and shooed him away.

Michael smirked and headed over to his Chevy, but once he was seated in front of the large, thin steering wheel, he couldn't help but look into the isolated bay of the garage. He was afraid of what would happen to K.I.T.T…Bonnie said years ago that he was afraid of change and he knew it to be true. A different car would be hard to get used to, but he relied on Bonnie to keep things under control.

Therefore, the ride back to his small house was spent trying to convince him that he shouldn't be concerned with anything. He promised Devon he'd do a job and he had to remain focused on that. Now, as he drove into the driveway of his beach-side property, he wondered how different Nicole was since the last time she saw him.

Devon had already arrived—Michael figured he made the phone call to him after stepping foot onto the driveway. Michael got out and tossed his thin coat over the railing of the porch as he joined Devon in sitting on the deck chairs.

"What do you think is wrong?" Michael asked.

"I don't know," Devon said. "She had said that Natalie hadn't been seen at home for nearly a two and phone calls were short and few."

"Do you think she was kidnapped?"

"Possibly," Devon said. "What puzzles me is that it sounds like her kidnappers are friends of hers. We won't know until we talk to Nicole."

They waited for near forty-five minutes for Nicole's cab to arrive. When it finally had, Michael and Devon walked out to greet her as she stepped out of the backseat. She pulled a strap to a duffle bag over her shoulder and looked around, but a small smile caught her mouth as she saw Devon and Michael walking towards her.

"Hi," Michael said with a smile and took the bag from her while Devon paid the cab driver. "Long time no see, huh?"ly had, Michael adn es for Nicole'ds of hers. e short and few. joined Devon in sitting on the deck chairs. vie "

Nicole nodded and looked up at him with big brown eyes looking over thin-rimmed glasses. "Too long, if you ask me," she said kindly. "It seems like you're doing well, though."

"Yeah, I'm not doing too bad," Michael replied as Devon joined them. "Lots of changes though—look at you; short hair and glasses now?"

Again she nodded and followed the two men up to the porch where Michael led the way into the house. "A lot has happened since we last met, Michael," she started. "And it was all going fine until about six months ago after my husband passed away."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Michael replied softly.

"Me too," Nicole second. "It wasn't a shock, I mean, but after my father went, he and Natalie were all I had."

Michael gestured for them to sit down at the kitchen table while he fixed up some fresh lemonade, offering them each a glass. Nicole sat silently for several moments listening to Devon talk briefly about FPLI and why she was brought into a private meeting in a beach house.

"I thought something was different when I had trouble finding your old firm," she commented. "When I called the information number the lady kept telling me that what I was asking for didn't exist, but this FPLI thing did. I didn't think it was true."

"Unfortunately so," Devon replied. "But Michael here has agreed jump out of retirement to help us out."

Nicole gave Michael a very sincere gaze and held back the tears forming in her eyes. "You don't know how much I appreciate this, Michael."

"It's no problem," he replied. "Now tell us about Natalie."

Nicole had no other choice than to pull a tissue from her purse and dry the corners of her eyes before speaking. She looked at her hands sitting in her lap, fiddling with the tissue. "When I wrote to Devon I hadn't heard from Natalie in a week. She just disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Michael said looking a bit surprised. "Kidnapping?"

"I have no idea," she said, tears starting to leak from her eyes. "I think she took off with those friends of hers. Michael, they're pulling Natalie into their circle and it's not good. She's not a bad kid!"

Michael leaned over and looked at her seriously. "I know. I'm going to find her and she's going to be okay. Just tell us whatever you know about what's been going on."

Nicole nodded and dabbed her eyes dry once again. "She was taking some courses at a community college a few miles from home and she met this guy there. At first I thought he was a good kid—clean cut, good manners, talkative—but after a while I could see Natalie becoming more secretive and quiet. She wouldn't talk to me unless it was common stuff like what the weather was doing." Nicole paused for a moment and looked across the room at nothing in particular. "She and her friend Melanie started hanging around his group of friends and soon they were both taking weekend trips—camping, or so they said. And then she didn't come home one Sunday."

"And that's when you wrote to Devon?" Michael asked.

"No," Nicole said. "That was a while ago. She called me late Sunday night and said they had headed down to San Diego and wouldn't be back until the end of the week. I told her to come right home that instant and she hung up on me. She came home Thursday and when I opened my mouth to lecture her she yelled at me and locked herself in her room."

"Has she had a history of such a response?" Devon asked with great concern.

"No," Nicole replied. "That's why I was starting to get nervous. I've never had a problem with her until now. I mean, she was a good student, followed the rules, never did anything to get arrested and then she meets this Paul and it's been downhill since. When I told her she had to stop seeing him, she told me I was stupid and knew nothing."

They were quiet for a moment, during which Michael sat tense in his seat trying to figure out a logical solution. He was afraid Natalie had gotten herself into a gang or something to that extent. "Nicole, there's been nothing from Natalie since she last was home?"

"Not a phone call, a letter, a postcard," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do. I reported her missing to the police, but they said they'll do their best."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Michael said with a sigh. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Couple of week ago," was the answer. "The night before I had begged her to give those kids up and asked why she couldn't. I pointed out that Melanie wasn't calling like she used to and it's probably because she didn't like those kids either."

"And what did she say?" Michael asked.

"Nothing; she just walked away. Next thing I knew she was gone. And the only reason I knew she wasn't going to come back was because a day or so later my neighbor was outside when I was getting the mail and asked me who we knew from Arizona."

"Arizona?" Devon questioned.

Nicole nodded. "The plates on the car Natalie got into were from Arizona."

"What type of car?" Michael asked quickly.

"I don't know," Nicole said, the sobs starting to pick up again. "Michael…I want her back. I don't want to find out that she's…she's…"

"I'll find her," Michael promised. "I swear to you that I'll find her and bring her home."


	6. Upgrade

**AN: **First off, I apologize to all of you for not giving you this chapter during the summer months when I hope some of you may have had more time with any sort of vacations and all. However, my summer turned into an ongoing rush around, which wasn't all that bad, but it kept me from writing. That and I was hooked on finishing up another story I had started. This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous one, but I was nearly overjoyed (an almost sickened 'cause it sat around) to find that I had indeed written a chapter 6…I don't know why I waited to post it. Forgive me, dear readers. Also, I reread the 5th chapter before this one—the version I posted here—and discovered I did miss some typos and such; I really do apologize for that as well. Also, I've been noticing that for whatever stupid, idiotic and very annoying reason, my computer has been deleting words or entire sentences from my latest posts, which screws up the flow (obviously) of the story. If you come across that...sorry? Any questions, feel free to send me a PM.

But here's what some of you have been eager to read :) When the next chapter will be up, I can't say; college is out to kill me. Anyway, enjoy this and review please!

xXx

**Chapter 6: **_Upgrade_

Michael Knight jumped into his Chevy early the next morning, but for the first time in months he didn't go to the diner for breakfast. Instead he turned off his street in the opposite direction and headed to where he hoped to discover the progress on K.I.T.T. was coming along quickly and easily. He hadn't heard a word from Bonnie since he left her at the shop the morning before, which he hoped meant things were going so well his partner would be ready for action within the next day or so.

The day before was spent talking to Nicole about not only Natalie but the past 16 years as well. They had shared laughs and sad memories and by the end of the day Michael wanted more than anything to find her daughter. Devon had returned to FPLI headquarters to do some other work, so Michael decided to bring Nicole out to dinner in hopes to cheer her up. It had gone well, but upon returning home he could see her depression returning.

After dropping Nicole off at the hotel, Michael thought of where he should start. Since the last time she was seen was at home, he figured he could take the drive out to the house and check her bedroom, and hopefully get a chance to talk to the neighbor that claimed she saw Natalie getting into the car from Arizona.

Within twenty minutes Michael arrived at the auto body shop to discover an unfamiliar white van parked off to the side, its back doors wide open to reveal an array of computers lining the wall. As he got out of his car he tried to look around to see anyone working in it, but it was empty. The regular mechanics were doing their daily work of oil changes and fixing other things on civilian cars, the doors to those bays wide open. However, the door to where K.I.T.T. was supposedly still parked was not only closed, but the windows were blackened.

He went into the building through the side door and cut through the other working areas, getting odd glances from the mechanics. He said his good mornings to them, but shrugged them off when he didn't receive any replies. His concern, though, was on the very large tarp that had been pulled across the entire garage to block off the end bay.

Sneaking around the side, Michael peeked in and saw Bonnie and Kurt talking to another man working at a small table, computer pieces and other equipment scattered everywhere around them. His beloved friend was on a lift, his frame nearly completely bare of any familiar body pieces that had hidden his internal parts. The driver and passenger seats were sitting against the wall in the back and wires were dangling everywhere.

Bonnie looked up as Michael approached, a smile barely visible on her face. "The answer is I don't know," she said as she pulled away from the other men.

"You don't know what?" Michael said trying to sound friendly.

Bonnie picked up a rag and wiped her hands on it before placing her palms on her hips. She looked at the remaining car sitting several feet above the ground, her face bare from any expression. "I don't know when we'll have him finished," she said finally. She turned her gaze to Michael and shook her head slowly as if she was about to lecture him. "Kurt called in two of his top colleagues last night," she explained. "I think I got two hours of sleep and only one cup of coffee. We're working endlessly, Michael, but there's so much we have to do—"

"Bonnie," Michael started, gesturing with his hands for her to calm down. "I'm not accusing you of this taking long. Trust me, I know K.I.T.T. wasn't in the best of shape, and I know that all of his stuff wasn't readily available to you."

"Go ahead," she smirked. "You can finish."

"I don't know what you mean," he said seriously.

"Bonnie, I need him as soon as possible," she mocked, lowering her voice in attempts to match his tone.

"Well, yeah I do," Michael replied with a smirk. "But I know that he needs the attention and this can't be a half-assed job."

"Damn right," she replied with a full smile.

Michael nodded and crossed his arms, taking a turn towards the car to look him over. "How's he doing though?"

"His memory is still good, though he needs to be updated on some historical events since he was locked up," she replied. "Most of his technology has been recreated, but we're almost to the point where we won't be able to do anything more until his new body arrives."

Michael's eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder at her. "So you are giving him a new body," he said with a small hint of sadness in his voice.

"Yep," she said. "Trust me, you'll like it. Kurt and I went down to check it out last night and we think it'll be perfect."

"And what does K.I.T.T. think?" Michael asked curiously.

"He…doesn't know," she said. "I deactivated him for a while so not to harm anything while we removed his CPU from the car."

Michael nodded; he knew Bonnie was fully aware of what she had to do, but the thought of deactivation tugged at his heart. He had hoped to say hi to K.I.T.T. at least, but it seemed that he'd have to wait until everything was finished before he'd have the chance to talk again.

Kurt had walked over to them to say hello, but before he could finish his greeting a truck's horn sounded from outside. Bonnie looked at Michael with a large smile and then led the way into the opened area of the garage. Michael wondered what he should expect to see as he followed the crew out front.

His jaw nearly dropped when he discovered just what had alerted their attention. A large flatbed, the same that had towed K.I.T.T. to this garage, was backing up into the parking lot in front of the closed-off bay, its lights atop the cab flashing a bright yellow. What it carried, though, is what made Michael nearly fall over.

"What do you think?" Bonnie said with a big grin as Michael came up next to her to watch. "Do you like him?"

"What is there to like? What the hell happened to it?" Michael asked throwing his gaze at the nearly demolished car sitting on the flat bed. He couldn't tell what it _had_ been, but from crushed nose and driver's side he couldn't even consider this being his best friend's new body.

"Accident," Kurt said from the other side of where Bonnie stood. "Driver actually passed away from it, but it was the best thing we could find for the cheapest price."

"I wonder why," Michael said. The truck stopped and surprisingly Will and Burt jumped out of the cab.

"Hey there, Michael," Will said as he looked up at the car. "Nice flashy red sports car arriving just for you."

Michael forced a smile. "Bonnie, I trust you, don't get me wrong, but this thing is totaled. How do you expect—"

"Burt is putting his entire team to work this car into better condition," she said forcefully. "Michael, K.I.T.T. will be better than you've ever seen, okay? Just give us time."

Michael put up his hands in defeat. "Alright, I shouldn't have doubted you," he said. "Just keep me posted on how he's coming along."

"I will," she said. "Now get going and do some work," she added with a small smile.

Michael returned to his Chevy and sat still in the front seat for several minutes as he watched them pulling the car off the flatbed. The only recognizable feature on that car was that it had been red with black interior; otherwise the car was nearly pulverized from what looked like a crash that made it the meat in a sandwich.

He turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life, but before he could put the car into drive he noticed Will heading over to him. He rolled down the window and looked up at the man who took off his hat to scratch his head. "Not gonna stick around?" he asked while leaning his forearm on the roof of the car.

"I've got to head out of town for the day," Michael replied. "I need to check something out." He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing; "Look, do you think that car can be fixed? I mean, the damage looks like an insurance company would die laughing at the person trying to bring it back to life."

"Well, that's what I said when your friend Bonnie there wanted to pull it out of the graveyard," Will replied. "She had called up Burt though and asked if it was possible to get it up and running again and he said he'd try his best. He's shutting this place down until that car of yours is finished."

Michael's blue eyes widened considerably and he glanced at the garage. "You're kidding me."

"Nope," Will replied.

"Damn, I don't know how the hell I'll be able to fork up that much money for this," Michael said mostly to himself.

"Don't have to," said Will. "Bonnie and her husband there are throwing in some dough and if you have to know I'm donating too."

Michael's heart nearly stopped and he shot his friend a concerned glare. "Will, you have no connections to this—why?"

"'Cause you're a good guy, Michael," he said. "And I know about your car. You know me, I have to poke my nose into things and when I saw the computer crap coming into this place," he pointed to the white van, "I needed to know just what the hell was going on. Bonnie explained everything to me and I nearly died from the news. I never knew that's the line of work you were into back then."

Michael said nothing; he merely stared at the pavement beyond the man standing next to the car.

"Burt said the only money he wants is the money needed to get the parts and pay his men since they're going to do triple overtime to get K.I.T.T. out of here as soon as possible. You have no idea what's going on here to get him out of rehab. Everyone knows you've got a kid to save."

Michael looked at him and smiled. "Trust me I have a good idea on what it takes to rebuild that car."


	7. One Way Street

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone; I want to apologize for how long it's been taking me to get up another chapter. For some reason the inspiration to write Knight Rider fics comes and goes, but I've had so much going on concerning classes that I haven't had time to work on much of anything lately. I'm hoping to be able to get the next chapter up sooner than the amount of time that's lapsed between this and the last, but know that it might stay idle for a few weeks. I do thank you for your patience though and for giving this story a chance :) I am enjoying it and the good stuff is just around the corner :)

I will reply to a comment that was requesting me to look at the end of chapter 6 and some sort of error that occurred. Unfortunately I found nothing wrong with it, so it might have been your computer or the connection of the internet at the time you viewed it. I hope you've been able to read it since then :) If not, contact me with a PM through ffnet and I'll figure something out for you. Note that the only error in this chapter might be typos--I wanted to get this posted before I left for class and if I waited there was a good chance it wouldn't get done again. So please bypass any minor things you may come across please.

And I apologize for offending anyone if you believe there's too much swearing taking place. Please note that I rated this "T" which can allow me to make this a little more "adult" so to speak in term of language. I don't view Knight Rider as for general audiences….entirely, lol.

As always please review so I can have an idea how it's going over with everyone. And of course, as always, enjoy :)

* * *

**Chapter 7: **_One Way Street_

Michael Knight parked his blue '57 Chevy in front of the hotel drop off where Nicole was staying. She came out moments later, her purse dangling from her shoulder and sunglasses hiding her brown eyes. Sitting in the passenger seat and buckling up, she greeted Michael with a meek hello as he started to drive off. He said nothing to her until they were on the road and then he glanced at her quiet face.

"I promise to find her," he said to reassure the saddened mother. "Today marks the day I start pushing over rocks to find out where she went."

"I know," Nicole replied. "I just don't understand any of this. Why, Michael? Why did this have to happen?"

Michael shook his head and turned the car onto the on-ramp to the highway. "I've asked that same question about a lot of things almost every day."

"How's K.I.T.T. coming?" Nicole asked suddenly, apparently knowing that part of his answer had referred to his old car.

"He's coming," Michael admitted. "They're working on him day and night as far as I hear. I know as soon as he's finished the search for Natalie will go a lot quicker."

Nicole let out heavy sigh and remained focused on the passing scenery. Neither of them said a word, and strangely this reminded Michael of the day they met when he had picked her up as a hitchhiker. He smiled to himself when he started reflecting on the entire incident with stopping Harold T. Turner from his antics, including the kidnapping of his daughter. K.I.T.T., he recalled, thought Natalie was one of the sweetest little girls he had ever met. He'd be heartbroken, in the figurative sense of course, to hear that such a sweet thing had gotten mixed up with so much trouble.

They arrived at Nicole's house within the hour; Michael parked the car on the side of the road in front of the white ranch house and looked around for anything that might give him a clue. "Nice neighborhood," he said as he looked down the street.

"It's alright," Nicole replied. "It was the best location for my husband's job and I decided to put my father's money away for Natalie's education and for emergencies."

They simultaneously got out of the car and Nicole led the way to the front door. Michael eyed an elderly woman watering her flower bed next door. "Is that the neighbor who saw them?" he asked quickly.

"Mrs. Thompson? Yes, that's her," Nicole said as she opened the door.

"I'll be right back." Michael jumped the steps and jogged easily over to the woman who eyed him as he approached. She was of fair skin and gray hair, larger glasses topping her nose and an old broach clearly visible from her collared shirt. "Mrs. Thompson?"

"Yes?" She asked warily and pulled up the watering can from drenching the flowers.

"Hi," Michael greeted with a white smile. "My name's Michael Knight, I'm a friend of Nicole's."

"Oh? I didn't know she had a man friend these days," Mrs. Thompson said with a small smirk as she eyed Michael up and down.

Michael chuckled and held out his hand to stress the point. "No, not like that," he told her. "We worked together a long time ago. Anyway, I was wondering if you can tell me what you know about Natalie's disappearance."

"Natalie? Oh, yes, she's something now isn't she?" Mrs. Thompson stated. "I don't like to claim I snoop around, but I've noticed on several occasions her standing in the front yard with some young man and they'd either be arguing or he'd be sweet talking her, or as it looked I mean."

"Nicole said you mentioned you saw Natalie get into a car from Arizona," he said. "Do you remember anything about it?"

Mrs. Thompson thought for a moment, her eyes glancing up to the sky to look at nothing in particular, but then she nodded and returned her gaze to him. "Yes, as a matter of fact I remember quite clearly. It was a beat up old piece of junk—rusted and faded. It was blue. And if I'm picturing it clearly it had a gray side—the part above the wheel?"

"The fender?" Michael asked.

Mrs. Thompson nodded. "Yes! On the driver's side."

"Do you remember the license plate by any chance?"

She giggled slightly and started to water her flowers again. "Only the last two letters, ET. They're my initials so those stuck out in my mind for some reason. I figured that maybe she ran off to get married or something since she's been gone for so long."

Michael became alarmed and looked at the older woman oddly. "Why's that?"

"Well she got into that car with the same boy she's been hanging around, the one I told you about? There were, I think, two other boys too, but only one was outside standing." She smiled and seemed proud of herself. "I figured there was another because no one got into the driver's side to leave. Natalie and her boyfriend got in the back and that was that. They left in quite a hurry."

"Mrs. Thompson I can't thank you enough," Michael said and patted her on the shoulder before turning away.

He returned to the white ranch and took it upon himself to go inside. He found Nicole standing in the kitchen looking a bit upset. "Something happen?" He asked quickly, wondering if maybe while he was absent Natalie had called.

"No," she said and shrugged her shoulders. "I just don't know what to do. Did Mrs. Thompson help you though?"

"Very much so, actually," Michael said. "She gave me a good description of the car and I'm hoping Devon can do a trace on it. I just want to take a peak into Natalie's room, if that's alright."

Nicole nodded and started down the hallway. "You won't find much," she said as she opened the door at the end of the hall. "I've already looked."

Michael scanned the room; it was colored in blues and yellows and was fairly neat for a teenager's bedroom. The closet door was wide open to display an array of clothing and a stack of shoes on the bottom. The dresser held a small television on the side, but the mirror was what Michael became interested in. A dozen or more pictures lined the side of the mirror and one in particular caught his attention.

"That's Natalie and him," Nicole said looking around him.

"Paul?"

"Yep," she replied. "If I ever see him again I'll poke his eyes out."

"Well you can have what's left of him after I get through," Michael replied. "Mrs. Thompson said she saw Natalie get into the car with him—or whom I'm assuming was him since she claimed he had been hanging around before. Did they argue?"

"Constantly," Nicole said and went over to sit on the twin sized bed. "Most of the arguments were over stupid things, but I started to notice that if I had come home and interrupted one they'd stop and pretend everything was fine. He usually left soon after."

"Strange," Michael said and pulled off the picture. "I'm going to hang onto this if its ok," he told her and put the picture in his wallet.

As he tucked the wallet back into his back pocket, Michael saw the reflection of a desk directly behind him. He turned to it and noticed a closed laptop sitting on top. "Did she use this often?"

"Constantly," Nicole said with a tad bit of annoyance edging her voice. "Kids these days live on those things."

"They are amazing and useful machines," he said to himself with mild reference to K.I.T.T. "I'm going to leave this for K.I.T.T. to look through once he's in on the action," he told her. "He should be able to find anything that will tell us about what she has quicker than I could."

"You and me both," Nicole said. "I'm horrible with computers compared to my daughter. She was a wiz with it."

Michael spent no more than another half hour looking around the house for clues, but part of that time was having a cup of coffee with Nicole in the kitchen. They headed back to the hotel where Michael dropped Nicole off and then he proceeded to return to his own home. Once there he pulled the picture out of his wallet and picked up the phone.

"Devon," he said into the mouthpiece. "It's me."

"Did you find anything?" Devon asked with high hopes.

Michael leaned back and stared at the picture, his frustration growing as he studied Paul in the photo. "Yeah, I got a little further, but only a stepping stone I'm afraid. Look, can you do a search for a blue car with Arizona plates ending with the letters ET?"

There was a moment of silence from the other end. "I have a feeling it'll be a long list," Devon said finally.

"Maybe, but maybe not," Michael told him. "I talked to Nicole's neighbor and the woman said the car was pretty beat up and had a gray fender. I'm thinking that'll knock down a good portion of what comes up. We can also look up driving records linked to any cars because I'm sure that the kid who owns it doesn't have a clean record. Oh, and I also have a picture of that kid Paul Natalie hung around with. I have a feeling he's a direct cause to this thing."

"Well at least we're getting somewhere," Devon said. "I spoke to Bonnie a short while ago and she said K.I.T.T. is coming along quicker than everyone thought."

"Excellent," Michael said with a smile brightening up his face.

"Yes, but there's another problem," Devon said and his voice suddenly became lower and more obscure.

The smile faded from Michael's face and he nearly feared what his friend was about to say. "Alright, what is it?" He said finally.

"Edward Stants decided to figure out why you suddenly pulled K.I.T.T. out of his storage," Devon explained. "His secretary, Stacey, informed me he wanted the number to Bonnie's company. He found out that she's on a convenient vacation to this part of the state."

"Figures," Michael said and rubbed his brow with his hand. "This Stacey someone who could be spying on us?"

"No," Devon said quickly. "She's a respectable young woman and dislikes Stants almost as much as you do. She's on our side. But Michael, I'm afraid that now he understands Bonnie's away he'll start poking his nose around even more. If he finds out that K.I.T.T.'s been entirely redone and can be worth a profit he'll do whatever it takes to claim him. We'll have the flame burning at both ends of the candle."

Michael was quiet for a few minutes and thought everything over. "We'll just have to make sure things are hush hush when he's around. I'll let Bonnie know to swear everyone to secrecy."

"I already have," Devon said. "What we don't need is any unexpected visits from Stants. Once he sees K.I.T.T. for himself I daresay we'll have a lawsuit breathing down our necks."

"Not if I can help it," Michael said. When he hung up the phone he looked over at the picture again. Knowing that Stants could be another threat would make the investigation that much harder.


End file.
